


Gotta Be Rock'n'Roll Music

by htebazytook



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, Incest, M/M, PWP, Slash, Smut, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 22:02:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htebazytook/pseuds/htebazytook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys stay made up for about an hour after leaving Red Lodge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gotta Be Rock'n'Roll Music

**Title:** Gotta Be Rock'n'Roll Music  
 **Author:** htebazytook  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Warnings:** incest  
 **Disclaimer:** *disclaims*  
 **Pairing:** Sam/Dean  
 **Time Frame:** season 2, post-'Bloodlust'  
 **Author's Notes:** PWP, first time fic   
**Summary:** The boys stay made up for about an hour after leaving Red Lodge.

 

Dean puts in Physical Graffiti, leaning into the curves in the road and speeding with the beat more than usual. Nothing feels better than this. No, seriously – not sex, not getting hammered, not wasting evil sons of bitches. Music and the smell of country air and car exhaust is so good _because_ it's so damn simple.

The tape runs out, and Dean fumbles for a new one. This jars Sam from his naptime listening to Yanni or whatever the fuck on his iPod. Sam grumbles, "Hey, what the hell?"

"Just hold still."

"What're you - stop sign! _That means stop!_ "

"Nah, we're in a cornfield, man." 

"That's wheat."

"Whatever, it all ends up as cereal, right?"

"Just pull over, Dean."

"I got it."

"Pull over," Sam says, brandishing a quarter and holding it threateningly out the car window and over her impeccable new paintjob.

Dean grumbles and drives them into the messy gravel on the side of the road. "Happy?" he says, stealing the quarter from Sam and flinging it at a fluffy thing of wheat. He elbows Sam more than is necessary as he continues shuffling through the cassette tape graveyard at his feet.

"I'm this close to cashing in my raincheck on punching you," Sam says, hitting Dean's shoulder. Sam looks stupid, one overrated Apple earbud in his ear and the other dangling, the hurt puppy look on his face.

"Oh yeah? 'Cause I disturbed your beauty sleep?" Dean pinches his cheek. "Aww, poor Sammy . . . "

"Don't _call_ me that," Sam whines, but it's empty words by now.

Dean feigns surprise. "And here I thought I was the _only_ one who got to call you that. That's what you told Gordon. Damn, I thought I was special there for a minute. I'm heartbroken . . . "

"Just shut up, man." Sam shoves both earbuds securely in his ears, sits back and closes his eyes.

Dean tugs the cord and dislodges them. "I can't let you listen to that crap. I'm supposed to look out for you."

Sam isn't having any of it, though. He looks at Dean all seriously, and it makes Dean want to laugh. "Stop acting like everything's normal."

Dean rolls his eyes. "How do you want me to act, Sam? 'Cause seems like it changes all the freakin' time. You deal with Dad's death the way that works for you, and I'll deal with it the way that works for me. Just leave me alone, already. You know I'd talk to you if I needed to talk, man."

"No you wouldn't."

Dean stares, blinks. "Whatever," he says, starting the engine violently.

Sam pulls the keys right out of the ignition.

"Um. What the _hell_?"

"Talk to me now."

"You'd make a real shitty shrink you know that? Give me the damn keys."

"A couple hours ago you tell me you _enjoy_ killing sometimes, and you're saying you 'don't need to talk'?"

"Urggh, seriously, Sam, you need to back off."

"No." Sam shakes his head, and Dean looks away to glare at the steering wheel. "No. I'm not gonna back off. You can throw a temper tantrum if you want, Dean, but I'm not gonna ignore the fact that you're obviously fucked up over this." He pauses, breathing quickly. "Dean?"

"What."

"Dean, I'm not trying to - "

"Sam," Dean warns. "You wanna shut up so we can get to the next case or do you wanna sit here and talk to yourself while I wait outside?"

Sam's frowns, dripping with concern - Dean can see it out of the corner of his eye, can practically hear it. "I _know_ you aren't - "

Dean kicks open the cardoor. He's halfway out when Sam yanks him back inside by the front of his shirt. Dean seethes, prays Sam will just leave it alone. If he'd just leave it alone Dean wouldn't _be_ pissed off to begin with. Selfish asshole.

"Dean," Sam begins, in that saccharine voice he uses with people he needs information from, and it drives Dean up the fucking wall that he'd use it on him. "I know you're hurting."

"Yup!" Dean shouts. "Jackpot! Bingo! You fucking win, man. I'm angry at Dad, and I miss him a hell of a lot more than _you_ , by the way. You want me to talk about it? I'm fucked up right now, Sam. I don't know what else you want me to say, or what the hell you think is gonna get solved by stating the fucking obvious. If I sit around talking about it then I'll start thinking about it, and if I do that I'm pretty sure I'll never _stop_ thinking about it, and then, well, it's gonna be a long damn time before I can build up enough momentum to be some kind of normal again. Now give me the keys."

Sam can't look him in the eye, another chapter of lost innocence and hurt and disappointment on his face, and that's exactly what Dean works his ass off to avoid. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Sam's face is in his face now, though. Dean raises one eyebrow, then raises them both because Sam's face is there to press their lips together. Yeah, for real - Sam's lips against Dean's soft and inquisitive Dean responds automatically, too used to never hesitating, tilts his head to kiss back but then Sam hums low in his throat and oh shit what the _fuck_ \- 

Dean leans way the fuck back, pinning himself against the window and staring at Sam and licking his lips. "Woah woah woah, we're, um . . . we're . . . hey there what're you doing?"

Sam's kissing Dean's neck now, and fuck if it doesn't feel heavenly.

"Sam."

Sam slips a hand beneath Dean's shirt, getting kinda tangled in his necklace and thumbing over a nipple, sucking on the skin beneath Dean's ear.

"Sammy. Ah _shit_ . . . "

"Just kiss me back, Dean," Sam says, holding Dean's face in his hands and kissing him much more deeply this time. Hot slick mouth and scratch of stubble on Dean's chin.

"You're pretty good with your tongue," Dean admits between kisses, head spinning impossibly, "for a geek."

Sam growls and kisses him harder. The force of it pushes Dean's head back. Dean stops trying to lead or deny it and lets Sam lick into his mouth, fucking in and out with his tongue and between breaths Dean gasps out, "When'd you get so good at this, huh? You been holding out on me."

Sam laughs. "What, so you _wanted_ to fuck me?"

Well hell _no_ Dean hadn't ever thought about _that_ before, but holy shit he was now. In staggeringly sudden detail. Pounding into Sam and Sam begging for more, his closed eyes and tight body and Jesus Christ it was _not normal_ to fantasize about fucking your own brother with barely a shred of mental resistance.

Sam is unbuttoning Dean's jeans, unzipping them and squeezing Dean's erection through his underwear before pushing them out of the way too. He's bending over. Holy _shit_.

"This is a dream isn't it," Dean babbles. God, he really wants Sam to suck him off, though, he really honestly does, what the _fuck_. And he hopes Sam keeps coming on strong like this so Dean won't have to feel like as much of a creep for enjoying it. God that's fucked up. "This is a sick, twisted dream and I'm gonna wake up and you're gonna make fun of me for coming in my pants . . . "

"No no," Sam says, breathing over the head of Dean's cock as he says it. Dean bites down on his hand but that doesn't make it feel any less good. "No, you're gonna come in my mouth, actually."

Dean groans at Sam's words, then at the exceptionally wet heat of his mouth that follows them, enveloping his shaft in bliss and making Dean fucking desperate for more of it.

"Oh God, oh God, I can't, I just – " Dean catches sight of him. " _God_ Sam."

Sam sucks hard, bobbing steadily, and all Dean can think is how did Sam learn to do this shit, anyway? He can't decide which is weirder – getting a blowjob from a guy or getting a blowjob from his baby brother and goddammit the forbiddenness of both only turns Dean on. Sam's fascinatingly flexible tongue isn't helping, either.

Dean's eyes open and close, unable to decide which staves off climax the best. He goes from watching gentle winds ruffle the wheat field outside to the blinding backs of his eyelids where wild fantasies of what he wants to do to Sam roam free.

Lewd slurping sound as Sam pulls off his cock, panting and pumping it with his hand instead. He leans in to tease into the slit with his tongue, then laps at the rest of the head like a fucking Tootsie Pop. Dean makes an embarrassingly girly noise at the sight and an even worse one when Sam looks up at him through his hair with Dean's cock resting on his slippery pink lips.

Dean grips the steering wheel and the seatback insanely to keep from holding Sam down and fucking his mouth. Doesn't seem to matter much though because soon Sam is taking Dean so deep and sucking so unthinkably good that it has Dean right on the edge.

"Sam, I'm gonna, I'm gonna, oh Jesus fucking Christ holy shit holy _shit_!" Sam swallows Dean's come without missing a beat – God that's hot – then surges up to kiss him again and pin Dean more firmly against the cardoor. The taste of his own spunk in Sam's perfect mouth is practically enough to make Dean come again.

Dean waits til he's got his breath back a little to shove Sam away. His lips are appetizingly swollen and his hard-on is evident so Dean opens up Sam's jeans and pulls his cock out.

Sam laughs, then moans a little, then opens his mouth for the two fingers Dean's pushing against it and sucks on them obediently, eyes dark and locked heavily onto Dean's. When Dean removes his fingers he rubs Sam's mouth with them before gathering him into a fierce kiss.

"Please," Sam gasps, turning his head to the side so that hot puffs of breath tickle Dean's neck. "Please just do it."

"Well since you asked so nicely." Dean spits into his hand before wrapping it around Sam's straining dick. It isn't very different in size from Dean's, but it still feels huge in his hand. Sam squirms mouthwateringly in the seat, arcing his back and looking like a damn incubus.

The morning sunlight gets in Dean's eyes and gets in Sam's hair, and a rushing breeze seeps in through the open window to fill Dean's nostrils with dust and allergens while Sam writhes and moans for him. A couple of vehicles woosh by on the road but Dean couldn't care less how many pervy truckers saw them at this point. 

Soon Sam clutches Dean's jacket, mutters, "Yes yes yes," and spills between Dean's fingers.

Dean grabs a stack of the Wendy's napkins Sam had stowed in the passenger's side of the car and cleans up. Sweaty-faced Sammy sits there sighing with a dopey grin and his fly wide open.

"Shit, Dean," he says, laughing. "Shit, man."

"Yeah." Dean clears his throat. "So uh, you just gonna keep public exposing in my car or . . . ?"

Sam is so giggly. "You're such an asshole." He zips up, though, closes his eyes and sighs some more. "That was awesome."

"I mean I can't exactly disagree." Dean is already planning out their next illicit tryst. Fucking Sam, man. Dean was hooked.

Sam rummages through the cassette tapes, grabs Out of Our Heads and sticks it in the deck. "Okay," he says. "Now we can go."

*


End file.
